


Minute by Minute

by ArtemisRayne



Series: May Look at a King - A Newsies Felisian AU [11]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Felisian, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And is Promptly Adopted, Anxiety, Car Accidents, Cat/Human Hybrids, Confessions, Established Relationship, Family, Feelings, Felisian!Jack, Felisian!Les, Felisian!Mayer, Hospitals, Jack Meets the Jacobs, Jacobs Family - Freeform, M/M, Meet the Family, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, The Jacobs Family is Perfection, protective sarah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-09-30 07:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17219180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRayne/pseuds/ArtemisRayne
Summary: A shrill shriek of tires drowns out the rest of Davey’s sentence, and his world grinds into slow-motion as he looks up from his video call with Jack to see the sedan sliding across the patch of black ice directly toward him.





	1. Chapter 1

Downtown Buffalo is crowded with foot traffic even at nearly eight at night, and Davey keeps a watchful eye on the head of curls bouncing along at his elbow. Les is a little too prone to wandering off on his own, and he's already gotten ahead more than once in his excitement. Still, Davey can't help but grin at his little brother's infectious enthusiasm. He's missed this while he's been away at school.

"Les," Davey says cautioningly, reaching out to snag the hood of the felisian's coat when Les gets several steps ahead again. "Slow down, would you? We've got plenty of time before the movie starts."

Les huffs, obediently falling into step with Davey, and his yellow-green eyes flick up to his brother's face plaintively. "But it's Spider-man!" he whines.

Laughing, Davey rolls his eyes. "I know, but the movie's still gonna start the same time no matter how fast you run," he points out. "And I've got the money for the tickets, so you're not getting in without me anyway." Les groans dramatically and sticks his tongue out, although it cuts off into a yelp when his foot skids on a patch of icy sidewalk. "Careful!" Davey says, seizing his little brother's bicep to keep him upright. "See, this is why we don't run."

"You're worse than mom," Les moans, tugging his arm free.

Davey opens his mouth to respond, but he's distracted by the vibration of his phone in his pocket. Pulling it out, he sees a text blinking in his notification bar.

_> Jack: hey when you got a free min, can i call?_

Smiling, Davey tugs his glove off so he can unlock his screen to respond. His thumb hovers over the text bar for a moment, deliberating. They've still got a good fifteen minutes before they'll reach the movie theatre. It's been nice to be home for the winter break, but if he's honest with himself, Davey misses Jack. They've texted daily, and Davey called Jack the once to wish him a Merry Christmas, but that was days ago. They're eleven days into winter break, with six more before Davey heads back to NYU, and he just sort of wants to see his boyfriend.

"Hey Les, you mind if I call Jack real quick?" he asks, shooting a sideways glance down at his brother.

There's something knowing about Les' responding smile, his elongated canines glinting in the glow of the street lamps. "So long as you don't talk forever and make us miss the movie," he says with a shrug.

Rolling his eyes, Davey taps on Jack's number and hits the video chat request. It only takes a few seconds for the call to accept and the video box fills the screen. Jack is sprawled on the sofa in the living room of his apartment, wearing the black tee-shirt that tells Davey he just got home from a shift at the coffee shop. Then Jack smiles, wide and blinding, and Davey’s insides melt a little. “Hey, Dave.”

“Hey yourself,” Davey responds with a grin, drinking in the familiar features of his boyfriend’s face while keeping one eye on where he’s walking. “You wanted to talk?”

“Just wanted to hear ya voice,” Jack answers, expression softening slightly. “Whatcha doin’? You didn’t have to vid if you’re busy.”

“We’re gonna see Spider-man!” Les shouts, bouncing against Davey’s side in an attempt to see the phone screen.

“It’s fine, we’re just walking to the movies,” Davey elaborates at Jack’s amused laugh. “Taking Les to see that new animated Spider-man movie. And I know how much you hate talking on the phone.” At his side, Les makes a noise of disgust. Modern cell phones are not well-designed for felisians, whose ears are set much higher than other humans, so the majority of them are stuck either using speakerphone or Bluetooth earpieces to be able to hear well.

Jack’s eyes are fond even as his smile slants into something teasing. “Admit it, you just missed seein’ my pretty face, didn’t ya?”

“Yeah, that stripe of coffee grounds on your cheek is super sexy,” Davey says dryly. Jack squawks and scrubs a hand over his face, ears pulling flat in annoyance. Chuckling, Davey carefully side-steps around a patch of ice before his gaze goes back to the screen. “Do you work on the fourth?”

“That’s Friday, right?” Jack asks. “Nah, don’t work this one ‘cause I traded with Elms to cover while he was home for Christmas. That’s the day you’re comin’ back, right?”

“Planning on it,” Davey agrees. “Wanted the weekend to get settled before classes start back up. And, you know, if there’s some free time, we could meet up or something?”

Jack snorts. “I ain’t seen you in two weeks. We’ll _make_ time.” Les gags loudly and theatrically at Davey’s elbow. “Keep it up, kiddo,” Jack raises his voice. “I’ll gladly go into details that’ll scare ya.”

“You will _not_ ,” Davey counters, although it’s hard to keep a straight face when he catches the wide-eyed horror on his little brother’s face. “I’m in public, Jack. The only person you’d traumatize would be me.”

The felisian rolls his eyes, smirking. “Fine, but just ‘cause I don’t want ya arrested for public indecency or somethin’. That’ll just mean longer ‘fore I see you.”

Laughing, Davey shoots an exasperated look at his boyfriend. “Thanks, I’m glad my lack of a criminal record is convenient for you,” he teases. “Wouldn’t want anything to-“

A shrill shriek of tires drowns out the rest of Davey’s sentence and his world grinds into slow-motion as he looks up from his phone. Behind the blaze of headlights, he sees a red sedan spinning out on a patch of black ice, the tires squealing as they struggle to gain traction. The horn blares loud, only feet from him, and Davey reacts on instinct; turning, he shoves Les as hard as he can in the other direction. His world implodes, a brief spiral of sound and vertigo and pain, before it all snaps to black. 

* * *

_Beep - beep - beep -_

The sound is high and sharp, and Davey wants to make it stop but he can’t seem to get his body to cooperate. Everything feels heavy and numb except for the dull pounding in his forehead that’s being prodded by the shrill beeping. His thoughts are slow and syrupy, most of them consumed with wishing death upon whatever’s making that noise, so it takes him a while to start wondering what’s actually going on.

Where is he? Why can’t he move? What is that god-awful beeping?

Even though it takes a strangely long time, Davey manages to pry his eyes open and then immediately regrets it as the piercing whiteness stabs into his eyes. He groans and squeezes them shut again. “David?” He knows that voice, and he tips his head toward it without opening his eyes again. “Dave, sweetie, you waking up?”

“Mom?” he asks, his voice hoarse and ragged in his throat. The single word claws its way out like knives, and he dissolves into a fit of coughing that lights his body on fire. Suddenly everything that was numb is screaming, agony shooting up and down his nerves, and he gasps breathlessly.

“Whoa, easy there.” This voice is accompanied by a firm, steady hand on his shoulder. “Breathe, buddy; you can do this.” Davey’s eyes are watering by the time he can breathe normally, every muscle in his body aching and tender. The hand rubs a soothing line as another brushes gently over his cheeks to wipe away the tears. “There you go. Good job, bud, you’re okay.”

Davey knows that voice too, but he doesn’t dare say anything, his throat still too dry. Swallowing, he cracks his eyes open just a little. Most of the world is still white, but Davey can vaguely make out shadows of figures beside him. The pain has faded back down into a disjointed numbness now, and he sucks in a deeper breath as his brain finally starts to slot the pieces together. The whiteness, the rhythmic beeping, the smell of bleach...

A hospital. He’s in a hospital.

“Wha-?” His voice cracks and Davey clears his throat, grimacing.

“Careful.” That’s Mayer’s voice, the low, sturdy baritone attached to the hand on his shoulder. “Think you can drink? We’ve got some water here.” Davey nods shallowly, and a second later he feels a straw pressed to his lips. He drinks gratefully, the room temperature water soothing the raw inside of his throat, and he lets out a breath when the straw retreats. “Better?”

“Thanks, Dad,” Davey says. His voice is still a little hoarse, but it doesn’t hurt anymore. He blinks a few times, his eyes adjusting to the light, and lifts his gaze to the shadows. Esther smiles even beneath red-rimmed eyes, while Mayer is a quiet but solid presence, his yellow-green eyes split by narrow lines beneath the harsh fluorescent lighting.

The familiarity of those eyes sends a sudden spike of panic through Davey before he can fully process it, his breath catching in his ribs, and it takes a second longer for the memory to push through the fog: yellow-green eyes widened in alarm as he stumbled backward under the force of Davey’s shove. “Les?” Davey asks immediately. “Is Les-?”

“He’s okay,” Esther says hastily. She nods toward the other side of the bed and Davey follows her gesture. Sarah is sitting in a plastic chair, and she offers him a shaky smile. In her lap, Les is curled up against her shoulder, fast asleep. There’s stark white bandages wrapped around his hands and a scrape on his cheek, but other than that, he looks fine.

“You saved him, bud,” Mayer says, brushing Davey’s fringe off his forehead tenderly. “You got him out of the way.”

“S’good,” Davey slurs. The memories are filtering back now and he winces as the aching in his body comes with it. It’s worse along his right side, the ribs on that side smarting if he breathes too deeply, and his face is stiff and stings. The pounding in his head seems centralized around his right eye, which he can’t seem to open all the way. That arm feels unusually heavy, and Davey glances down; laying on top of the blankets, his forearm is encased in white plaster and violet medical tape.

“Yeah, you did good,” Mayer agrees, as Esther gives a broken little sob. “But now you need to focus on you, okay? Get some sleep, buddy.”

Sleep sounds like a fantastic idea, the odd weight in his muscles already tugging him halfway back toward that darkness. There’s one more thing needling at his thoughts that he needs to check before he can fall asleep though. “Jack?”

“I messaged him,” Sarah interjects softly over his parents’ confusion. “He knows you’re okay.”  

Davey exhales appreciatively. “M’kay. M’head hurts,” he admits, the words sticking on his tongue as he tries to speak.

“We can fix that,” Mayer says. There’s a soft beep. “That should help.”

“Go to sleep, sweetie,” Esther says, her fingers sweeping softly along the side of his face that doesn’t hurt. Davey hums, but there’s a cool wave slipping through his body, and he drifts off before he can think of words to respond. 

* * *

Everything is so much clearer the second time Davey blinks awake, his gaze casting around the hospital room blearily. He realizes now that he's not in a room so much as a cubicle of sorts, heavy gray curtains drawn around his bed to form a little rectangular partition. On one side of the bed, the chair is vacant. Mayer is sitting on the other side, his large brown ears tipped forward attentively at the sound of Davey waking.

"Hey bud," Mayer says warmly, sitting forward. "How're you feeling?"

"Better," Davey answers. He gives himself a second to take stock of his body. Although the fog has faded from his head, that also means the pain is back. It's a dull, all-over ache, but the worst of it is coming from his right arm in its cast. There's also a strange, painful stiffness to that side of his face, an odd tugging sensation when he tries to move the muscles there. "Sore," he admits at his stepfather's raised eyebrow.

"I'll bet," Mayer says. "You got pretty banged up."

"Where's Les?" Davey asks curiously.

"Mom and Sarah took him home," Mayer responds. "He needed to get some real sleep, and the noise was getting to him." Davey shoots a concerned glance at his dad, who smiles and shakes his head. "I'm fine. Les was just having a hard time because they gave him some painkillers when they were stitching his hand."

Davey nods in understanding. "But he's okay?"

Mayer's expression softens, his ears relaxing into their natural position. "He's okay. A little shaken up, but he's going to be just fine." He reaches up, setting his hand on Davey's shoulder although he's careful not to put much pressure. "He told us you pushed him out of the way of that car. Every time I think I couldn't possibly be more proud of the man you've grown into, you go and prove me wrong."

"I didn't-" Davey feels tears burn at the corners of his eyes, and his ears burn red. "I mean, I didn't even think about it, I just - did it."

"That's my point," Mayer says fondly. He pats Davey's shoulder and then stands. "I'm supposed to grab your doctor now that you're awake. You good on your own for a few minutes?"

Nodding, Davey relaxes back into the pillow. Mayer pulls back the curtain at the foot of the bed, revealing a hospital corridor with a long desk and dozens of people in scrubs walking in every direction. As his dad disappears into the hall, Davey closes his eyes against the building ache in his head.

Davey isn't sure how long he's been laying there, just that it's long enough he's started to drift off, when the curtains rustle again. _Must be Dad back from looking for the doctor_ , Davey thinks distractedly but doesn't bother opening his eyes. There's a pause, and then a whispered, "Fuckin' hell."

Davey's eyes snap open in surprise, his vision swimming for a second as he struggles to focus on the figure standing at the foot of his bed. It sounded like - but it can't possibly be - except as his eyes finally settle, he knows that profile, knows that squared jaw and those tufted ears. "Jack?"


	2. Chapter 2

The entire trip is a blur, nothing more than a series of impressions that slip in beneath the ever-present fear that is coiled around his neck like a noose. Jack barely remembers throwing the bare essentials - change of clothes, toothbrush, phone charger - into his ratty backpack; barely remembers the airport or the taxi ride; barely remembers how he got from point A to point B.

What he does remember is checking his phone obsessively for any updates from the new number that's been saved into his contacts. He remembers putting in his headphones and cranking the music as high as he could stand it, attempting to block out that horrible sound that is looping inside of his skull (a startled yell that cuts off abruptly with a sickening _thud_ ). He remembers tasting copper and realizing that, in his nerves, he's chewed his thumbnail down below the quick.

All of the swirling chaos inside his head doesn't settle until he reaches the bed that the exhausted-looking nurse directed him to; until his eyes finally land on the face that the dark voice in the back of his head kept saying he might not see again. _Davey_. Jack lets out a sigh of relief at the confirmation of the familiar face, even as something inside him twists up in horror at the _un_ familiar.

Davey looks somehow so small and young in the bleached white hospital bed. There are cuts scattered across every inch of exposed skin, most of them superficial but a few protected by bandages. His right forearm is in a bright purple cast, and the stretch of arm between his elbow and the sleeve of the papery hospital gown is tie-dyed in bruises. A long, jagged gash spans along the right side of his face, from his temple to his jaw, sewn shut with meticulous black stitches.

"Fuckin' hell," Jack exhales weakly, his chest contracting as he grips the end of the bed with white knuckles.

Davey's lashes flutter, and blue eyes drift to Jack, although it doesn't look like they're actually focused. That little furrow appears on Davey's forehead, the tiny V he gets between his eyebrows when he's concentrating on something. His lips twist into a bemused smile and then, "Jack?"

His voice is rough and tired, but the sound of it washes over Jack like the comfort of a warm blanket. "Davey, hey, youse awake," he says, slipping around the side of the bed to come closer. Jack lifts a hand without thinking, reaching out before he freezes and thinks better. There's nowhere to touch that isn't injured, no space of skin that isn't decorated with cuts or bruises. Letting his hand drop to the mattress, Jack manages a weary smile. "How's ya feelin'?"

"Confused," Davey says with a faint smirk. Jack can tell he's still half-doped on medicine because his eyes don't focus entirely, the hard consonants in his words rounded off as he stumbles over them blearily. Davey's left hand turns over on the bed and slides over to touch Jack's where it's resting on the blanket. Davey seems fascinated as he tangles their fingers, and his gaze is awed when he looks up at Jack again. "You're here. How? _Why_?"

The humorless laugh that escapes him sounds shrill and Jack grimaces, carding a hand through his hair. "Why? Fuck, I - I thought I saw ya die last night," he says, voice cracking. He feels restless and agitated, and for once, he doesn't force himself still when his tail lashes. It feels good to expend even just that little bit of the reckless energy buzzing under his skin.

Brushing his wrist beneath his burning eyes, Jack meets Davey's gaze again. "I _heard_ it," he elaborates. The sound echoes inside his skull again - screeching, a yell, and the wet thump of a body against unrelenting metal - and Jack bares his teeth as he tries to push it away. "I heard ya get hit, Dave, and then the phone just _stopped_ , and I was so fuckin' sure I just lost ya and I can't-" His voice breaks and he swallows, clearing his throat.

Realization dawns in Davey's eyes, and his grip tightens on Jack's fingers. "Jack, m'sorry," he says, and Jack snorts because only Davey would apologize for getting hit by a car like _he's_ the one who did something wrong. "I didn't - Sarah said she talked to you." Jack nods, and Davey frowns. "Wait, _how'd_ she tell you?" he asks. "My phone's broke."

"Instagram message," Jack admits with a wry grin. "She's been Insta-stalkin' me for a couple weeks now since I tagged ya in that pic from Halloween." Davey's eyes go wide, and then he huffs a soft laugh (coupled with a wince). "So she messaged to get my number and lemme know youse okay."

"But you're here," Davey says, and something passes over his face, something too deep and undefinable for Jack to make sense of before it's gone. "You came all the way here anyway."

That's when the first swell of uncertainty hits Jack and he fidgets, biting his thumbnail before the sting of pain reminds him it's mostly gone. "I just - had to see ya for myself," he says and licks his lips. "Sorry, this's weird, huh? I should'a asked first or somethin', I wasn't thinkin', just-"

"Jack," Davey interrupts, squeezing his fingers. When Jack meets his eyes, Davey smiles. "I'm glad you're here. Now shut up and kiss me, wouldja?"

A surprised chuckle slips out, and Jack flicks his tail in satisfaction. "Yes'sir," he responds, leaning in to brush a featherlight kiss onto Davey's lips. He lingers there for a long second, inhaling deeply to find Davey's natural scent beneath the layer of antiseptic, and the knot in his chest loosens. Jack presses another kiss to Davey's forehead before he straightens up again. "Ya scared the shit outta me, Jacobs," he admits, cradling Davey's hand in his, careful around the IV line taped to the back. "Don't you ever fuckin' do that again."

Davey laughs quietly. "I'll try," he agrees. "Wouldn't wanna inconvenience you."

"Damn straight," says Jack, smirking. "Gimme a fuckin' heart attack." The sound of footsteps coming close grabs Jack's attention, pivoting one ear toward the noise, and when he's sure the steps are headed to them, he looks up.

Two people are walking to the open curtain at the end of Davey's bed, one a doctor with Middle-Eastern features, the other a tall felisian man, and both are looking at him questioningly. Although Jack's never met him, his stomach jumps into his throat because he knows who the one must be.

At the same time, recognition flares in the felisian's yellow-green eyes and his ears slide forward from their tensed position as he smiles. "You must be Jack," he guesses, his voice a low baritone.

"Yes'sir," Jack answers. He hastily levers his weight up off the edge of the bed and dries his palm on the leg of his jeans. Stepping forward, he holds his hand out. "You're Davey's dad, right?"

A brief flicker of something like shock, and then the felisian's smile widens warmly. "Mayer," he supplies, shaking Jack's hand. "Nice to meet you, son, although perhaps not the best circumstances." Jack is relieved that Mayer doesn't say anything about Jack's unexpected appearance in the room, simply accepting it with a nod before he glances to Davey. "How you doing, bud?"

"Good," Davey says. "Kinda tired. And hungry."

Mayer snorts back a laugh as the doctor steps up to the bedside. "That's actually a good sign. Concussions usually make people nauseous," she says. "But you seem to be doing well there. We should be able to release you in a few hours, we just want to monitor you a little longer since you hit your head pretty hard, but you should be home in time for dinner. For now, I'll have the nurses grab something for you, see if you can keep that down. Now, how's the arm feel?"

Davey hums noncommittally, and Jack's eyes narrow as he recognizes that sound. Before he can say anything, Mayer beats him to it. "David, does it hurt?" the older felisian asks firmly.

"A little," Davey says, and his face scrunches up like the admission hurts worse.

"Yeah, it's going to for a while," the doctor says sympathetically. She pulls out a sheaf of dark blue paper and holds it above the bed so that the hospital fluorescents illuminate an x-ray image. Jack recoils with a wince as he spots the jagged black line that crosses both white bones of the arm. "It was a rather severe compound break," the doctor explains. "We've set them, and they should heal up fine, but you'll want to be careful about straining it. We'll give you a prescription to help with the pain when you leave, but for now," she tucks the paper away and then reaches up to fiddle with the IV stand above the bed.

"Thank you, doctor," Mayer says.

"Of course," she responds, smiling kindly. "Get some sleep, David, and I'll be back to check on you again in a couple hours." With a quick nod to them, the doctor slips out and closes the curtain behind her.

"You've got to stop being such a tough guy," Mayer says to Davey, smirking slightly. "It's okay to say if you hurt. You've had a rough night."

"I'm fine," Davey says flippantly. "It's not that bad. More ready to go home than anything." His eyes dart to Jack. "Are you - when d'you have to go back?"

Jack shrugs, biting his lip. He hasn't gotten that far, honestly, although he doesn't want to say that out loud. He's only been concerned with getting _to_ Davey, so he hasn't given any thought to getting back home. "I got some time," he says vaguely. "If ya don't mind me hangin' 'round for a bit."

Davey grins, but it's Mayer who answers. "Of course not," he says, clapping Jack on the shoulder. As the older felisian settles down into a vacant chair, he nods pointedly toward the other one. Jack shucks off his backpack and tucks it beneath the chair before he sits down, his leg folded up awkwardly beneath him on the hard plastic seat so there's enough room to curl his tail safely around his side.  

Motion catches Jack's eye, and he looks up to see Davey's left hand held out over the edge of the bed, wiggling his fingers in a vague grasping gesture. Jack feels the heat crawl up the back of his neck, aware of Davey's dad watching them, but he takes Davey's hand and threads their fingers together. Davey smiles lazily, his eyelids already drooping despite his efforts to keep them up, and the expression is oddly endearing.

"Sleep, Dave," Jack says, grinning. "We'll be here when ya wake up."

Humming, Davey's eyes slip over to Mayer. "Hey Dad," he says and Jack can tell the painkillers must be kicking in hard now because he's slurring. "This's my boyfriend, Jacky."

Mayer is trying to fight back a smile without much success, and his ears flutter. "We've met," he says, exchanging glances with Jack. "Seems like you did good, bud."

"Mm-hmm," Davey agrees, unfocused blue gaze moving back to Jack, and he grins again. "S'good." He is blinking slowly, each one taking a little longer to open again, and four blinks later his eyes stay shut.

"Stubborn kid," Mayer murmurs in amusement. His lips slant up into a smirk as he turns to look at Jack. "Hope you know what you've gotten yourself into with him."

Jack laughs. "Trust me, I know," he says with a sly grin. "He ever told ya how we met in the firs' place?"

Mayer's ears tip forward curiously. "It was at the coffee shop where you work, wasn't it?"

"Where he yelled at me for givin' him a free coffee," Jack elaborates, making Mayer's eyes widen. "Took offense to the charity, I guess. Sounds worse than it was, but I defin'ly knew what I was signin' up for after that." Brushing his thumb along Davey's knuckles tenderly, Jack glances at Davey's face, slack in sleep, and smiles. "He's a stubborn, headstrong pain sometimes, but he's just - _good_ , ya know? Never met someone like him."

"He's a special kid," Mayer agrees. There's something knowing to his smile and Jack ducks his head, embarrassed. "He was such a fierce little kid," the older felisian continues conversationally. "Always standing up for what he believed in. He didn't go out of his way to start a fight, but if someone started it, you could be damned sure he was gonna finish it. I've been in awe of him since the first time that little toothpick of a seven-year-old marched up to me and told me I was going to be good to his mother or I'd regret it."

The laugh slips out before Jack can stop it. "He didn't," he counters, even though Jack can see it so clearly in his head, can perfectly imagine a tiny little Davey with his hands on his hips and that blazing, earnest look he gets when he's determined.

Mayer smiles, shifting his weight onto one hip and letting his tail drape out beneath the arm of the chair. "If I hadn't already known by then that he was gonna grow up to be incredible, that would've done it," he muses, almost wistful. "This boy who was so strong and brave and proud, so protective of what he cares about. And he's still that boy, but I think somewhere along the way, he lost some of the fight, you know? He's still got all these things he believes in and cares about, but he's not as fierce about fighting for them. Especially not for himself. He'll still fight to the death for someone else, but if it's only for him, he just turns the other cheek."

"I've noticed," Jack admits softly because he does know this. He's seen it in the way Davey was ready to go toe-to-toe with Race on their first date over calling Jack 'kitten,' despite barely knowing him. He's seen it in the stubborn indifference over that jerk from his class that Davey was content to let keep bullying him, or in the resignation about being kicked out of his church and reluctance to go back again.

As if reading Jack's mind, Mayer says, "And then he tells us he went to a Hanukkah lighting on campus with a friend you introduced him to. Did you know that's the first time Davey's willingly been to temple since he was twelve?" Jack blinks in astonishment, looking over at Mayer. He knew Davey had stopped going at some point, but he didn't realize it started that long ago. "He quit going regularly at twelve, and after that, the only time we could get him to go was for family things; bar mitzvahs and funerals, things like that. We tried for years, started going to a different temple, but he just shrugged it off and said it didn't matter. Until you."

"I didn't do nothin', really," Jack says, shrugging self-consciously.

"Maybe, but that's sort of my point," says Mayer, and there's a weight to his gaze. "You didn't have to do much, just put that opportunity in front of him. And for the first time in a very long time, Davey _took_ it. You might not see the difference, but the Davey that came home last week isn't the same one that left for NYU in August, and I think a little of that is because of you." The felisian shrugs, easily breaking the somber tone in the room with a soft laugh. "Or maybe I'm just waxing poetic because I haven't slept much. Either way, it's nice to see a little of that fierce kid come back."

Jack is anxious and embarrassed, not sure how to respond to the gravity of what Davey's dad has said, but he feels like he should say _something_. There's a realization hedging his thoughts, a startling admission he discovered less than twelve hours ago, but that's not the right thing. Not right now. So instead, he clears his throat and licks his lips. "Davey's been a godsend for me," Jack says, forcing himself to meet the man's yellow-green eyes. "Makes me a better person. And if I did somethin' to give a li'l of that back, well, we's probably still not _even,_ but least it's somethin'."

There's a long, poignant moment as Mayer seems to consider him, and then he dips his head faintly in an approving nod. Flitting his ears, he stretches his arms over his head and stands. "Good to hear. I could use a cup of coffee. Would you like one?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Jack says, nodding, a little caught off guard by the abrupt change in topic. He hasn't slept, up all night in his desperate scramble to get from Manhattan to Buffalo, and caffeine is probably a good idea at this point. "Thanks, Mr. Jacobs."

Mayer smiles. "Call me Mayer, son," he says, and then claps Jack on the shoulder once more before heading for the door. Jack watches him go, heart hammering against his ribs with a hurricane of disorienting emotions. Too exhausted to decipher them, Jack turns his attention back to Davey, still fast asleep in the hospital bed.

"You done a real number on me, ya know that," Jack murmurs fondly, folding his arms on the side of the mattress. "Nothin' but trouble from the moment I metcha." Propping his chin on his arms, Jack watches the minute twitches of muscle in Davey's face, the faint glimpses of emotion playing across his sleep-lax features, and lets the familiarity of it soothe away the last of his fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleepy stoned Davey is a total softie and I will die for this headcanon so don't fight me XD
> 
> Also, I hope people like the Mayer I've written for this series, I've gotten rather fond of him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So of course as soon as I say I'm trying to keep up with posting, life goes completely ballistic. Sorry for the long delay, I've barely been able to keep up with BoB posts around everything, so this story sort of fell by the back burner. Not to mention, it kept fighting me on POV choices so this'll be the first story in the series that bounces between both boys' POV. Hopefully it doesn't make it confusing, the breaks are pretty obvious. These boys just don't like to cooperate with me sometimes...
> 
> Also yes, the long-running joke of my knock-off felisian Sherlock Holmes series makes a comeback. I regret nothing.

The low rumble of voices is what finally pulls Davey out of the murky darkness of sleep, his curiosity getting the better of him. There's still a strange fuzziness to his head, his whole body feeling like it isn't fully connected to him, but he's aware enough to know that's probably for the best. He can remember the ache that had spread through his muscles before he fell asleep and he's not eager to feel that again. It takes a minute to blink his eyes open, and his gaze slants sideways toward the source of the voices.

There are two chairs pulled up beside his bed, two faces that he recognizes even before his eyes can entirely focus. Jack is sitting exactly where he was when Davey fell asleep, holding a quiet conversation with Sarah, who is filling the second chair. Whatever they're discussing seems to have them both worked up, Jack's ears partially drawn back and Sarah's eyes narrowed. Davey curiously forces himself to concentrate on the words.

"-the whole point of it," Sarah says insistently. "How can it claim to be a pioneer for representation of felisian rights and culture, and then relegate the only felisian character to the role of sidekick?"

"He ain't the _only_ one," Jack counters. "There's that sergeant-"

"Who's used for comedic effect more often than not-"

"-and Irene-"

"Oh, don't even get me started on how they ruined _that_ character," Sarah hisses with an imperious snort. "Feminist reinvention, my ass. All they did was sexualize and objectify her, both as a woman _and_ a felisian. Besides, she's only in, what, three episodes total?"

Jack winces. "Mm, 'kay, bad example," he concedes. "'Sides, show didn't start out as bein' 'bout felisians, they just cast the guy 'cause he's a good actor. It's just sorta turned that way now 'cause folks made a deal of it. And it's still a good show."

"Well, sure, it's good," Sarah agrees. "I just feel like it's such a missed opportunity."

Comprehension washes over Davey, and he can't stop the laugh. "You two seriously fighting about _Baker Street_?"

Jack and Sarah both jump and glance at him in surprise. Sarah smiles, and there's no missing the way Jack's posture relaxes, his ears coming up again. "You brought this on yourself," Sarah says with a shrug. "You're the one who got me watching it. And you have to agree that they wasted a great chance for representation by making John Watson a felisian instead of Sherlock."

Davey frowns. "What? No, that would've ruined it," he says. "Sherlock's whole thing is that he notices the stuff no one else does. If he were felisian, people would've just said _that's_ why he noticed, 'cause the senses. He wouldn't be an observant human, just an average felisian, you know?"

Both Sarah and Jack look caught off guard at this. "Hadn't thought of that," the felisian says thoughtfully.

"And he's not a sidekick," Davey adds, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes with the hand that he can use. "They're partners. John helps find the clues, Sherlock puts 'em together. Sort of a brains-and-brawns thing, a little. _Partners_." When he drops his hand, it's to find Sarah gaping, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to find a counter-argument. Davey grins blearily. "Half-stoned and I gotcha speechless. Harvard's doin' you good, Sazzy."

Jack breaks out in a fit of giggles, fighting to muffle them when Sarah glares at him. "How you feelin', babe?" he asks, clearly changing the subject.

"Hungover," Davey answers with a huff. "Where's Dad?"

"Traded off with mom," Sarah says, nodding toward the other side of the bed. Davey follows her gaze to find Esther slouched in one of the plastic visitor chairs, her head propped against the back as she snores softly.

"I don't need a babysitter," Davey grumbles.

Sarah snorts. "Not for you, stupid, for Les," she says. "He's hyper as hell and pitching a fit because he wants to come see you, but there's no point bringing him all the way here when all he'll do is keep you awake, especially since they're supposedly sending you home soon. Mom and I came here to get a reprieve." Raising her voice slightly, Sarah says, "Momma?"

Esther jerks awake, straightening up in the chair and blinking. "Hmm? Did I nod off? Sorry." She swipes a hand back over her hair to smooth it, and her gaze drifts to Davey. When she sees him awake, she smiles fondly. "Oh, hello, sweetie. How're you feeling?"

"Very ready to be out of here," Davey answers with a grin.

Esther chuckles appreciatively. "Well, we should be able to leave here soon," she says. "They said one more check-up and they'll let you go. I'll go find Dr. Menken, let them know you're awake."

"If you're gonna be goin' home, I should pro'lly be goin' too," Jack says, carding a hand through his hair.

Frowning, Davey opens his mouth to argue but he's beaten to the punch. "Oh, but you'll come for dinner at least, right?" Esther interjects, stopping immediately in her path toward the curtain. "You came all this way. You've been here hours, you must be starving. And Les will be so disappointed if he doesn't get to meet you."

Jack pulls a lip beneath an eye tooth nervously. "I don't wanna intrude."

"Oh, don't be silly," Esther says, waving a hand dismissively. "We love the company. So it's settled. And of course, you're not going to want to be traveling, with New Year's Eve tomorrow. Everything's going to be booked and so crowded and busy."

"Oh, I-" Jack looks across at her, eyes wide as he clearly scrambles under her persistence. Davey and Sarah, well used to their mother's tactics, exchange amused glances. "Ya don't gotta-"

"It's not like you'll be able to get a ticket anyway, with the holiday," Esther continues. "Everything going into the city is going to be all booked up. You don't have to work on New Year's, right?"

"Uh, no, not that day," Jack answers, sending a startled look at Davey.

"Well, that works out perfectly then," Esther says decisively. "You can stay with us until after the holiday. It'll be nice to have you around. New Year's is always more fun with more people. And I'll feel so much better about sending Davey back to school if he's not traveling all that way by himself, especially right now with him being hurt."

"Mom," Davey protest indignantly.

It seems, however, that that's the point to finally break the last of Jack's resolve. "Well, I mean, so long as you don't mind," he says, smiling shyly.

Esther beams in satisfaction. "Perfect," she says. "Now, where was that doctor?" Clicking her tongue, Esther slips out through the curtain into the corridor.

When Jack turns his gaze back to Davey, he looks faintly bemused. "I ain't sure what just happened," he admits, brow furrowed, "but I'm pretty sure your ma just turned dinner into a whole weekend thing."

"Welcome to our childhood," Sarah says wryly.

Davey snorts. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to," he says. "Mom can be a little pushy."

Chuckling, Jack reaches up to curl his fingers around Davey's. "Not like she didn't have a point," he says, flitting his ears. "Everyone's gonna be heading to the city for the New Year's thing; any seats left is gonna cost a fortune. Besides, I've kinda missed you."

"I've kinda missed you too," Davey replies, smiling.

Sarah mimes gagging. "Gross." 

* * *

The Jacobs' house is a classic brownstone in a strip of identical townhouses, only set apart from the others by the glimpses of decoration: plaid curtains in the lower windows; empty flower boxes painted in sun-bleached white; a large wooden snowflake that looks like it might be handmade hanging on the front door. Jack peers up through the window of the little station wagon as Esther Jacobs navigates it into a narrow strip of parking beside the stairs.

"Welcome to Casa de Jacobs," Sarah says with a grin from the back seat beside Jack. "Established circa 2010 as a den of chaos. Good luck, adventurer."

Jack laughs over the sound of Esther's exasperated sigh from the driver's seat. "You've never seen the chaos of holidays at Miss Medda's House of Strays. Think I can handle it."

"Thought your mom hates it when you call it that?" Davey asks from the front passenger seat, which is apparently the only seat in the car that can accommodate his long legs.

"She does," Jack agrees, smirking. He climbs out of the car, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, and then opens the passenger door for Davey. "But Ma ain't here to hear it, is she?"

"I can get my own door," Davey grumbles petulantly up at him.

Recognizing the stubborn defensiveness, Jack snorts. "I'd hope so, at your age," he shoots back with a lazy grin. "It's called bein' a gentleman. C'mon, I'm tryna impress your folks. Work with me here."

From the other side of the car, Jack hears Esther muffle a laugh. Davey rolls his eyes, clearly seeing the play for what it is, but he still accepts Jack's hand. The taller boy grimaces as he unfolds his legs and levers himself up out of the car. It takes a second for him to catch his balance through the lingering pain medicine in his system, and he lets Jack wrap a bracing arm around his back as they start for the front steps.

The door bursts open after they've gone two steps and Jack immediately recognizes the gangly figure with tousled brown curls and ears he hasn't completely grown into yet. "Davey!" Les crows. He charges down the steps before he's intercepted by Sarah, who throws an arm out to stop him from barreling straight into Davey.

"Careful," Sarah says when the boy glances up at her. "He's gonna be sore, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Les says, shrinking slightly at the reproach. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's okay," Davey says. He shrugs off Jack's arm and gestures to Les. "C'mere, short stack."

Ears still drawn back uncertainly, Les ducks passed Sarah and throws his arms around Davey's waist. The little felisian nuzzles his face into Davey's sternum, and Davey clutches him just as tight, the arm not in a sling around his brother's shoulders. Jack exchanges glances with Sarah, and something in her expression makes him realize this is probably the first time the brothers have really seen each other since the accident.

"Okay, boys, let's get you inside," Esther says, setting a hand on Les' back. "It's too cold to be standing outside." Les reluctantly extracts himself from Davey's grip, scrubbing a wrist over his eyes quickly. As Esther and Sarah shepherd him into the house, Jack slips his arm around Davey's waist supportively again. The fact that Davey doesn't protest or try to push him off tells Jack the pain pills must be wearing off now.

It's a slow trip getting up the short stairs to the front door, and Jack helps him into the sitting room. The room is open and cozy, with a long, L-shaped sofa in the corner, several afghans and decorative pillows tucked against either arm. Jack guides Davey over to the couch, where the taller boy sinks into the cushions with a soft groan. Les scrambles up onto the cushion next to him, perched up on his knees as he cocks his head to survey his brother.

"You okay?" Les asks uncertainly.

"I'm okay," Davey replies reassuringly. He reaches up with his good hand to ruffle the curls between Les' ears fondly. "Just a little tired."

Les nods, seemingly pacified. "'Cause that was so scary," the young felisian admits softer. "The noise was so loud. And your arm - I could see the bone! It was sticking out!"

Jack glances up from setting his backpack beside the sofa to wrinkle his nose. "Creepy."

"It was super gross, like a horror movie," Les agrees, his attention jumping to Jack as the older felisian takes a seat on Davey's other side. "Hi, Jack. It's so cool you're here. And your ears are so cool," he says eagerly, leaning forward on his knees for a better look. "Can I touch?"

"Les!" both Davey and Esther chide exasperatedly.

Jack just laughs and tips his head forward. "It's fine. Go ahead, kid."

"Sweet!" Les squeaks and he reaches across to brush his fingers over the tufts of hair at the tips of Jack's ears. It tickles and Jack can't completely stop himself from fluttering them in response to the delicate touch. Les giggles, the sound tinged with a playful chitter. "That's awesome, I've never seen ears like yours."

Esther huffs another sound that's half-fond, half-exasperated. "C'mon, Les, come help me with dinner. Let's let Davey rest for a minute." Les makes a face but obediently follows his mother and sister out of the room, leaving Jack and Davey alone.

"Sorry, he gets a little excited sometimes," Davey says, his tone wry but his smile affectionate. "He's always been the sorta impulsive one."

"S'fine, I don't mind," Jack says, shrugging. "And I'm used to it anyway. Lots of folks say that 'bout my ears. Least he asked first, that's better than some." Davey chuffs, shaking his head. "How you holding up, tough guy?"

Davey shoots him an unimpressed look at the name. "I'm fine, really," he repeats insistently. "It's some bruises."

Jack snorts. "You're like fifty percent bruise righ'now, Dave, I saw when you were getting dressed." Davey raises an eyebrow and Jack shrugs unrepentantly. "Course I peeked, don't gimme that look."

"Incorrigible," Davey mutters, lips twitching up.

"Maybe, but ya like it," Jack responds. He brushes his knuckles softly down the side of Davey's face that isn't marred by stitches, letting the reality of it sink in again. Davey's safe. Davey's okay. Still... "Can I?" Jack asks, opening his arms invitingly.

Davey smiles and nods. Jack shuffles the last few inches closer, half-sliding Davey's legs into his lap, and wraps his arms around the taller boy. Being careful not to squeeze too tight, Jack pulls Davey against his chest and burrows his face into that soft juncture of neck and shoulder where Jack's brow fits so perfectly.

"Thank God youse okay," Jack breathes against Davey's collarbone. He nudges his nose into skin, seeking out the familiar scent of Davey beneath the sharp tang of the hospital soaps and antiseptics.

"Hey, I'm okay," Davey says, and the hand on Jack's back fists in the wrinkled shirt. "I'm okay, Jacky. I'm - I'm sorry you had to hear it like that. That must've been awful."

Jack takes a deep, steadying breath, blinking back the burn at the corners of his eyes. "Ya can't go doin' stuff like that to me," he teases, trying to lighten the mood. "I've gotten used to havin' you 'round. And dunno if I'd ever find someone else willin' to put up with me like ya do."

Pressing a warm kiss to the side of Jack's neck, Davey grins against his skin. "Yeah, well, I've gotten pretty used to you too," he says and there's a softness to the edges of it that makes Jack think Davey knows what he was really trying to say without using those words that scare the shit out of him. Of course he does; he's Davey, he's a genius. It makes something warm and bright spark in Jack's chest, that Davey recognizes what he's feeling, what those agonizing moments after the phone line went dead made Jack finally realize, and that Davey maybe even feels it too a little.

So instead of fancy words, Jack nuzzles Davey's cheek affectionately and then pulls back to give him a soft kiss. "Good to hear," Jack says, tail lashing in satisfaction. "Now you gotta lie down and get some rest. C'mon, get yourself comfy."

"I've done nothing but sleep all day," Davey counters irritably. "I'm fine."

"Youse a stubborn ass, ya know that?" Jack says, flitting his ears in annoyance. "I didn't say you had to sleep, just lay down. Relax and let your body heal, wouldja?" Carefully extracting himself from Davey's side, Jack arranges the trio of decorative pillows from the nearby arm of the sofa and nods toward them pointedly.

"You calling me stubborn is sorta pot and kettle, don't you think?" Davey says, smirking slightly. When the only response Jack gives to that is an eyebrow raised expectantly, Davey sighs. "You're getting bossy," he says but he shifts to lay down across the sofa cushions, visibly biting the inside of his cheek in an attempt to hide his wincing.

Jack snorts, crouching by Davey's head to sweep his fringe off his forehead. "Speakin' of pots and kettles," he says pointedly. Davey huffs and sticks out his tongue. "Looks like you're rubbin' off on me. Sucks to be you. Now relax and get cozy. Still got like another two hours 'fore you can have another of those pain pills."

Davey makes another petulant noise. "I don't want one, they make my head feel weird," he grumbles. He huffs to himself as he scoots on the sofa, trying to find a way to lay that doesn't hurt, settling his casted arm against the back of the sofa so it doesn't put weight on his bruised ribs. "I don't want to sleep all weekend. 'Specially with you here."

"Scandalous," Jack jokes, smirking.

"No, just don't trust you alone with Sarah," Davey retorts with a grin. "She's got a lifetime worth of embarrassing stories and photos, and I know she's just looking for an excuse to break 'em out."

Laughing, Jack kisses him again. "You bein' awake ain't gonna make a difference for that," he points out. "'Sides, ain't just the weekend you gotta worry about that now. She's got my number. And Insta and Snapchat, ach'lly. Figured might as well since she's been stalkin' me on there anyway."

Davey groans, rolling his eyes upward. "Ugh, someone kill me," he mumbles.

"Sorry, babe, but that's a no-go," Jack says. "Someone tried a'ready and you promised no more of that. Youse just gonna have to live with the embarrassment." His gaze lifts to dance around the sitting room, lingering curiously on the framed photos on the walls, and grins. "Hmm, wonder if there's anything embarrassing in here."

Shooting him a wry look, Davey flutters the fingers of his good hand in a vague gesture of invitation. "Go ahead and snoop," he allows with a smile. "Not like I didn't do it to you."

"Not snooping if you got permission," Jack argues, but he drops one last kiss on Davey's forehead before standing. Strolling leisurely around the room, he lets his eyes drift across the various decorations in the room, the knick-knacks on bookshelves and the coffee table. They all appear to be handmade and childish, probably school art projects, the sort of thing moms always proudly display - Medda has an entire cabinet in the dining room filled with the same.

Jack's attention moves on to the photos on the walls, a soft smile crossing his face. The largest one, hanging on the wall directly opposite the front door, is a family portrait that looks like it must be a couple of years old since Les can't be more than six or seven in it. The Davey in the photo is even wirier than now, that stretched out thinness of someone still going through growth spurts, and his cheeks are pinked from sun above his awkward smile. "I always forget ya got glasses," Jack muses aloud.

Davey scoffs. "That's sorta the point of why I wear contacts now," he replies. "And I barely need them anyway, I can manage without them."

"But they're cute," Jack says, flashing a grin over his shoulder at Davey. He heads for another photo frame, this one containing a collage of smaller casual pictures from through the years, birthday parties and Halloween costumes and swimming at the beach and days at the fair. "Jesus, youse always been a beanpole," the felisian remarks in amusement, leaning in for a better look.

"You're just jealous 'cause I'm taller than you," Davey says.

"Like a half-inch," Jack retorts. There's a snort from the sofa that clearly displays Davey's thoughts on that argument, but Jack doesn't dignify it with a response. Another picture, this one perched on the bookshelf, catches his eye. "Wow, your family's huge."

"Dad's side is," Davey agrees with a laugh. "He's got five siblings, and most of them have a bunch of kids. I've got something like almost thirty cousins on that side now, I think, and three of them have their own kids now too. Four, soon; Lizzie's due sometime in the spring."

Jack glances back at Davey, ears lifting in his awe. "Damn, family parties must be a riot," he comments idly. "That's cool though. I've never had cousins."

Davey's eyes, which have been hovering at half-mast, snap open, and he tips his head to look up at Jack with his brow furrowed. "Oh, Jack, sorry, I never even thought about-"

"S'fine," Jack cuts across him before Davey can get wrapped up in apologizing for something stupid. "Medda's an only kid, and neither my birth folks talked to their families, so I guess if I got cousins, I've never met 'em. It's a'right, made up for it with siblings. And there's kids from Medda's theatre that I basically grew up with too, some of 'em still come 'round for holidays and stuff. Never a quiet minute at the Larkin house, fo'sure."

Seemingly satisfied by the answer, Davey relaxes into the pillows again. "Yeah, we don't have a ton of those either," he says. Jack can hear the rest of the Jacobs easily, the four chatting loudly in the kitchen on the other side of the wall, and the peaceful domesticity of it makes him smile.

"Oh, speaking of family," Jack says, suddenly remembering. "I should let Spot know I'm sticking around a couple days, and he's been hounding me for updates 'bout you anyway. You mind if I-?" Davey waves a hand, grinning, and Jack pulls out his phone. Scrolling to his brother's number, Jack taps the video chat button.

It rings four times before the call connects and Jack's promptly met with narrowed yellow eyes and a scowl. "Hey, how's he doin'?" Spot asks by way of greeting.

"He's good, like I toldja the last four times," Jack says with a laugh. "Home now and everythin'. Here, see." Jack crosses the room to sit on the floor beside the sofa, turning the phone camera so that Davey is in frame too. "See, say hi, Davey."

"Hey, Spot," Davey says, turning his head on the pillow to see better.

Spot's ears pull back and he winces. "Fuck, that's a helluva scratch you got there."

Davey huffs. "Yeah, apparently the windshield took offense with my face," he says blithely.

"Oh, s'that Dave?" comes a yell from the other end of the line, and a minute later, Race ducks his head in above Spot's shoulder to see. "Hey pal, glad to see you're not roadkill."

"Thanks, Racer," Davey replies with a laugh. "Not roadkill, even if my face kinda looks like it right now."

Race blows a raspberry and shrugs. "Don't worry 'bout it. Scars are sexy. Huh, baby?" And Race presses a pointed kiss to the base of Spot's torn ear.

Rolling his eyes at the comment, Spot doesn't answer. "Good to hear you're gonna be okay," he says and there's a hint of warmth to it, his ears easing up. "You had us all worried, kid. Try and stop playin' in traffic, wouldja?"

"I'll keep it in mind," Davey agrees, grinning.

"Hey, so I'm gonna stay here couple days," Jack says. "Can't get a lift back to the city with the holiday, so we'll be back after."

"A'right, see you then," Spot says. "Keep me updated. And stay outta trouble, you two." They exchange farewells and Jack clicks off the video. He catches a flicker of movement above his phone screen and glances up as Les pops around the doorframe into the room.

"Dinner's ready," the young felisian announces excitedly. "You need help?"

"I'll be fine," Davey says. Les nods and bounds out of the room again. Groaning, Davey makes to sit up and Jack immediately puts an arm around his back, helping him up. "I'm good," he says, trying to bat Jack aside, but the felisian doesn't move. "Okay, this is going to get annoying, but right now I'm too hungry to care."

"Yeah, okay, pal," Jack says, humoring him with a smirk. They're really going to need to address Davey's complete inability to accept help later, but that's for another time. Preferably a time when Davey's not half out of it from pain and meds. So Jack just settles his arm more comfortably around Davey's waist as he stands. "C'mon. You can chew me out later 'cause that food smells fantastic."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter to make up for the wait. Also because I have no restraint when it comes to these two boys. 
> 
> Alternate title for this story has become: Davey is stubborn boi and Jack just wants to take care of his precious string bean.

After having a front row seat to the Charm of Jack Kelly for the last few months, Davey is completely unsurprised that Jack manages to win over the whole family without blinking. Jack is kind and grateful, complimenting Esther's cooking and asking questions about Mayer's work. It seems that Jack and Esther bonded at the hospital while Davey was asleep, discovering a mutual love of gardening, of all things. Sarah plies him with questions about his views on felisian culture and politics in the big city, while Les simply seems in awe of the older felisian, chipping in eagerly on everything.

"So you said you're studying social work, right?" Mayer asks curiously. "Want to be a counselor?"

"Ach'lly I really want to become a caseworker with child services," Jack admits. "OCFS or Guardian Ad Litem, something like that."

"That'll be a hard job," Esther comments, "but it's a very noble thing to do."

Jack shrugs, ears flitting back as he grins vaguely self-consciously. "I know what it's like being a kid in that sorta situation, and how much it sucks, and how much it helps to have someone you can trust to have your back," he says. "And I think it'd be a help for kids in that place, having someone who's been there too, ya know?" Davey smiles, his heart warming the way it does whenever he hears Jack talk about his passion for helping children, and he touches his boyfriend's forearm affectionately. The felisian returns his grin, his tail sweeping up to brush against Davey's hip gently.

"That's really sweet," Sarah says, and she casts a quick, approving glance at Davey. He smiles; Sarah's always the hardest critic, and even she's caving to the wonder that is Jack Kelly in his element.

"I've just always wanted to do something that'll mean something," Jack says. "Not that I don't enjoy makin' coffee, but feeding people's caffeine addiction ain't the dream. And hey, maybe I'll wind up running into you workin' someday. Heard you're gonna be a lawyer."

Sarah laughs. "That's the plan, but I'm aiming a little more for government than family law," she says. "Civil rights and constitutional law."

"The next RBG?" Jack asks, grinning.

Pretending to swoon dramatically, Sarah smiles. "Oh, if only," she jokes. "No, judge doesn't really appeal to me much. I'm thinking more along the lines of civil rights' prosecution, like ACLU. Get into the system and make a case for the people who've been forced to just tolerate being ignored and mistreated." 

"Fix what's broken from the inside," Davey says, exchanging a knowing grin with his sister. "And if they don't let you in, make such a ruckus at the door they can't ignore you anymore." It's a sentiment they've both always agreed on, the sort of mentality that's driven them both toward careers where they can give people a voice in their world, Sarah on the legal side and Davey through the headlines.

Jack laughs, nodding. "I like that idea." He glances across to Esther and Mayer, and he grins. "You raised up some scary fierce kids. Feel bad for whoever tries gettin' in their way."

Esther smiles fondly. "They're a force to be reckoned with," she agrees. "It's good for their futures, although let me tell you, it wasn't so charming when they were rebellious teenagers."

"And not looking forward to this one's high school years if he's half as bad," Mayer adds, reaching out to ruffle Les' hair playfully. The young felisian flattens his ears and rumbles furtively at his dad.

"S'why I did debate team," Jack says knowingly. "Was the only place I could argue and rile up and not get in trouble for it."

"Preach!" Sarah interjects, beaming.

"Do you do debate with the college too?" Esther asks.

Shaking his head, Jack shrugs. "Don't got the time," he says. "Go to school full-time and work a'most full-time too. Tried to do it freshman year and couldn't keep up with everything. Decided having the time to study and keep my grades up was more 'portant." He grins and elbows Davey. "This one's helped out a lot with that, too. Bullies me into doin' homework."

"I don't bully," Davey counters, nose scrunching. "Just - _remind_."

Sarah snorts. "Yeah, no, I've been on the receiving end of your 'reminders' for years, Day," she says. "You can be a bituva bully about it." Davey shoots an unimpressed look at her, which she replies to by sticking out her tongue.

"I ain't complaining, Dave," Jack says, his tail brushing along Davey's leg again soothingly before it settles over his thigh. Davey can't stop the small smile at the gesture, moving his uninjured hand down to stroke the fur softly. "My grades this term were awesome. Even pulled a B+ in that awful Classics course. You're single-handed savin' my GPA."

Davey smirks. "Did more good for your grades than mine," he jokes.

"That's what ya get for takin' Spanish," Jack says with a laugh. "I can't help ya with that one."

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly know I was going to end up with a bilingual boyfriend when I signed up for my classes," Davey retorts in amusement.

"Bilingual?" Sarah asks. Smiling, Jack sets down his fork. With his index fingers extended, he circles his hands in front of his chest and then sweeps either hand out to the side. Sarah's eyes widen. "ASL?"

Jack nods. "My little sister's deaf," he explains. "So we all learned to sign after Ma adopted her."

"You got a sister that's adopted?" Les asks curiously.

Although their parents both protest the question, chiding him for his manners, Jack laughs and waves a hand dismissively. "It's fine, I don't mind," he says. "And yeah, we're ach'lly all adopted. Or, well, me and my brothers are technically fosters; Ma didn't legally adopt us 'cause that's how we got our grants for school. Government chips in a ton for foster kids to go to college, and there was no way we were gonna be able to afford it otherwise." He shrugs unashamedly. "But she's always been our mom in every way except on paper."

Davey catches the brief smile that dashes across Mayer's face, as well as the glimmer of comprehension. Esther obviously sees it too because she reaches out to touch Mayer's wrist softly where his hand is resting on the table, and Mayer returns her smile as he squeezes her hand affectionately. "It's nice that you've found a family like that," Mayer says. "You have a lot of siblings?"

"Three," Jack responds. "Two brothers and the sister."

"Davey, sweetie," Esther interjects, frowning. "You've barely touched your food. You okay?"

Glancing down at his plate, Davey winces guiltily. He was hoping that no one would notice, but he should've known better. The ever-vigilant Nurse Esther doesn't miss a thing, especially not when one of her kids is her patient. "Yeah, sorry, my stomach's just a little off," he admits.

Esther tuts. "That usually happens with concussions. Well, so long as you stay hydrated, you'll be okay," she says, giving his glass an appraising look. She checks her watch and clicks her tongue. "And it's about time for you to take another pill too."

"I'm fine, Mom," Davey argues, but Esther ignores him, bustling up to refill his glass from the kitchen tap. When she comes back, shaking one of the pills from the bottle the hospital provided, Davey lets out an exasperated sigh. "Seriously, I don't need one. I'm _fine_. All they do is make me tired."

Jack sets his hand on Davey's back, ears easing back as his brow furrows. "C'mon, Dave, I know from experience how much busted arms hurt," he says. Something in his tone makes a strange chill roll down Davey's spine; it's that forced lighthearted calm he gets when he's skirting around talking about his past. Davey frowns as he meets Jack's gaze, his head filled with worst-case scenarios to match up to what he knows of Jack's early childhood. Worse still, Jack just grimaces and shrugs, meaning Davey's suspicious aren't necessarily wrong.

Letting out a heavy breath, Davey turns back to his mother and grudgingly holds out his hand. Esther's lips quirk in an almost satisfied way as she presses the pill into his palm, unaware of the silent exchange, or at least of the real topic. She hovers nearby until Davey's taken the pill, washing it down with half the glass of water to get rid of that chalky chemical taste.

"Thank you," Esther says, carding a hand through Davey's hair affectionately. "Besides, you need the rest, honey. That's how you'll heal."

"I know," Davey grumbles. "It's just - I only get a little time at home, and I don't wanna spend it all sleeping."

Esther ducks in, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "And we want you healthy," she responds. "We're all going to have an early night anyway. I think we're all still tired from last night. Poor Jack most of all, probably," she adds, casting a sympathetic glance at him. "Have you slept at all, dear?"

"Um, a little," Jack says uncertainly, his left ear flitting before he hurriedly tucks them back. "Nodded off a couple times, slept a bit on the plane, ya know?" Davey can recognize the lie in it immediately, and it seems Esther isn't convinced either.

"In that case, if you're done eating, why don't you two head to bed," she suggests, nodding toward the stairs.

"Oh, I mean - ya sure I can't help with the dishes or something?" Jack asks. "Least I can do since you folks are lettin' me stay here and all."

"Don't even think about it," Esther says, tutting again. "No, you just go get some sleep and make sure my stubborn son does too." She ignores Davey's scoffed protest. "You both look ready to keel over. If you're that concerned about it, I'll find something around the house for you to help me tomorrow."

Jack chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, but he nods. "Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Jacobs, it was delicious," he says as he stands. "And I appreciate you guys lettin' me stay here." Esther smiles and pats his cheek fondly, drops a kiss onto Davey's cheek, and then retreats back to the other side of the table. Jack offers out a hand to Davey, grinning. "So, ya gonna give me the dime tour then?"

As much as Davey's annoyed at being sent to bed early like a child, it's currently outweighed by his desire to have some time alone with Jack, especially before the stupid pain pill knocks him on his ass. That, and retreat gets him away from his mother's coddling. Davey accepts Jack's hand and stands gingerly, his joints reminding him forcibly of the abuse they've been through.

Okay, so maybe a pain pill wasn't the _worst_ idea.

"I got the downstairs room," Davey explains, leading Jack toward the staircase. The felisian ducks into the living room long enough to retrieve his ratty backpack, then rejoins Davey at the top of the stairs. "Oh, and watch your step," Davey cautions as they start down, fighting back a wince whenever he's forced to put his weight on his bruised right leg. "The light switch is like halfway down the hall, and sometimes we forget to move laundry baskets and stuff."

Jack smirks as he slips a step ahead of Davey, none-too-subtly inserting himself where he can both support Davey's weight a little and catch him in case he stumbles. "Yeah, light's not a problem for me," Jack reminds him.

"Right," Davey says with a self-deprecating smile. "Forgot for a sec. I know it's not P.C. to compare, but I've got to say, I've always been a little jealous of that skill. It's gotta be convenient."

"Comes in handy on occasion," Jack agrees. When they reach the bottom of the stairs, he gestures for Davey to wait and then heads down the hall. Davey can barely make out the felisian's outline against the darkness as he picks his way down, and then the hall light flares on. Jack grins. "Perk of keeping a kitty around: we're useful in the dark."

Davey rolls his eyes at the remark but doesn't bother calling Jack out on it; he's gotten better at telling the difference between when Jack's joking flippantly and when he's having a genuine self-loathing moment. So he just smiles and guides Jack to the far door, passed the laundry machines behind their folding curtain door and the tiny half-bath.

"Uh, please ignore the decorations," Davey says, pausing with his hand on the doorknob, and he can feel his ears burning. "I haven't bothered redecorating much since like junior high, so..." He trails off with an awkward, one-sided shrug, then takes a deep breath and lets Jack into his bedroom.

The felisian wanders a few steps in, his eyes casting around the room even before Davey turns on the lights. Davey walks over and sits down on the edge of the mattress, watching Jack prowl curiously around his bedroom. Trying to look at his room as an outsider, Davey glances around at the old movie posters tacked to the walls and the pair of Harry Potter-themed mugs on his desk, one filled with pencils, the other with pens.

Jack breaks his thoughts with a low whistle. "Damn, babe," he says, and he's perusing the little trophy shelf on the wall above the desk. His tail is quirked into that loose question-mark shape it does when he's intent on something. "You told me ya played soccer, but you didn't say you were this good."

"They gave those to everyone on the team," Davey responds dismissively. "I wasn't MVP or anything."

"But you guys took division," Jack counters, then his ears dart up. "Wait, _twice_?"

Davey chuckles softly, careful not to jar his ribs. "Once in JV, once in Varsity. But last year we came fifth. A lot of our better defenders had graduated the year before so we had a rough year." Groaning, Davey scoots up the bed enough to prop his back against the wall. "The rest of those are super nerdy," he adds when he sees Jack's still browsing the trophies and plaques.

"I can tell," Jack responds, casting a quick grin over his shoulder. "Spellin' bees. Honor Society. Oh, well this one's for track, that's less nerdy. Hmm, Most Improved Writer - awh, that one's cute." The felisian's attention drifts on from the shelf, glancing idly over the books on his desk and then to the framed newsprint on the wall. "You write this?"

"My first investigative piece to get published," Davey says with a self-conscious smile. "Sophomore year. Found out the cafeteria was cutting corners on the vegetarian options, substituting ingredients for ones that weren't actually completely veg-friendly to save money."

Jack looks over, his bright eyes wide and an amused grin bearing the tips of fangs. "No shit? And the school letcha publish it and everything? Damn, bet that caused a lotta noise."

"My journo teacher was vegetarian," Davey replies. "She'd bought lunches in the caf a couple times, and she took the lying a bit personal. No one got fired or anything, but things were a bit tense. And I decided I was better off bringing lunch from home the rest of high school, just in case."

Laughing, Jack lashes his tail enthusiastically. "Mm, that's my Davey," he says approvingly.

Davey chuckles, blushing. "You know, you've got the parents good and convinced," he points out. The felisian raises an eyebrow questioningly. "Mom didn't make out the sofa bed for you. You don't get much more 'stamp of approval' than that."

"Maybe it's just 'cause she knows you're too busted up for us to get up to any shenanigans," Jack suggests, even as his ears flit in satisfaction. "Speakin' of, you're supposed to be going to sleep, mister. And not gonna lie, I could use a nap too."

"I can't believe you really haven't slept at all," Davey says exasperatedly. "You've really got to stop doing that."

Jack snorts. "This ain't really the same as when I stay up painting," he argues. Davey remembers the wild, frantic light in Jack's eyes when he first showed up in the hospital, the weary relief that replaced it when he saw Davey awake, and he winces sympathetically. The felisian is preoccupied with digging in his backpack and doesn't notice.

Resigning himself, Davey lifts the strap of his sling over his head and slides his casted arm free. He grabs the hem of his teeshirt and starts pulling it off, gritting his teeth through the pain as he maneuvers his good arm through the sleeve. When he makes to slip it over his head, a second pair of hands is there to help stretch the collar enough that he doesn't scrape it against his stitches.

"I can do it," Davey objects when Jack starts helping him get the shirt over his cast. "I don't need help."

A short, agitated growl escapes Jack, and the distinctly animal noise that Jack would normally keep back is enough to startle Davey into silence. Crouching in front of him, Jack places one hand on Davey's leg and meets his eyes. "Toldja before, Dave, it ain't about you _needing_ anything," he says determinedly. "I _want_ to help. That's what folks do when they care about people. You do little things to help 'cause you can't make the pain go away, but you can make it easier. So please, Davey, just lemme help?"

Davey licks his lips, stunned by the almost desperation in those gemstone eyes, and then he dips his chin in a shallow nod. Jack's expression softens and he carefully slides the shirt sleeve over the violet cast. Then the felisian pushes up on his knees, letting Davey grip his shoulder for balance as he helps him slip off the track pants his mom brought for him to wear from the hospital.

"Want me to grab ya something to wear?" Jack asks as he moves to deposit the clothes in the hamper in the corner.

"No, it's always too warm in here at night," Davey says, fidgeting in his briefs. "Furnace is on the other side of that wall, always kicks on in the middle of the night and heats my room up."

Jack's lips quirk. "Noted," he says and immediately drags his shirt over his head. His hands are on the button of his jeans when he pauses, his gaze sweeping over Davey with a frown. "Maybe I ought'a take the sofa," he says. "You're gonna have a helluva time gettin' comfy with all those bruises."

"Shut up and get over here," Davey replies. "Don't you dare take your shirt off and threaten to go away."

"Ah, right, how cruel of me," Jack says dryly, fighting back a pleased smirk. As the felisian strips off his jeans, Davey attempts to find a comfortable way to lie down. Either side puts pressure on his bruises, so he winds up on his back, casted arm resting awkwardly beside him so it doesn't push down on his sore side. He exhales and glances over to find Jack waiting beside the light switch expectantly. "You good?"

"I'm good," Davey answers. He lets his gaze sweep appreciatively over his boyfriend - the planes of tanned skin over muscle, tousled dark hair sticking up around his tufted ears, soft smile under his jewel-bright eyes, the sinuous length of tail curled loosely along one toned leg. "Now c'mere already, would you?"

Chuckling, Jack nods and flicks the light off. Davey hears him take two steps and then the felisian laughs again. "Oh for real?" he asks, clearly thrilled. "Glow-in-the-dark stars?"

Davey flushes bright red as he looks up at the ceiling, having forgotten about the carefully laid out constellations of plastic stars he stopped noticing years ago. "I was a kid," he says in a weak attempt to justify. "I told you I haven't bothered redecorating."

"And there's even like a dipper and everythin'. That's the cutest fuckin' thing I've ever seen." Jack pads across the carpet and the edge of the mattress dips. "Here, this'll help," Jack says, and reaches across to lift Davey's broken arm gently. He slips the bed's second pillow under his arm, elevating it and providing a cushion between the cast as his tender ribs. "Gotta keep it up so it doesn't get all swollen, 'cause that hurts like a bitch."

Part of Davey wants to ask how he knows, wants to discover the story that's obviously there beneath the surface, but he bites his lip. Jack hates talking about those kinds of things even on a good day - Davey's curiosity can wait for a better time. So instead, he swallows and says, "Thanks, Jacky."

"Course," Jack responds simply. He drags the blanket up and then molds himself to Davey's significantly less bruised side. The felisian is more tentative than usual, carefully settling himself down instead of flopping inelegantly onto Davey's chest the way he normally would, but he eventually winds up in his usual place with his cheek on Davey's shoulder. "And youse sure this don't hurt?"

"Feels better than I have in a while," Davey says with a smile. He curls his left arm across the back of the felisian's shoulders, slipping his fingers into the hair beneath an ear and scratching idly. The first tugs of exhaustion are prickling at the edges of Davey's mind, the painkiller kicking in and pulling him toward sleep, and he sighs contentedly.

"Sap," Jack teases playfully, but his tone is warm. Davey shivers at the brush of fur over his skin before the thin, comforting weight of Jack's tail drapes over his waist almost like an embrace.

Davey huffs an amused breath. "Pot, kettle," he murmurs back and feels Jack grin against his collar. Davey exhales and his eyes flutter. "Still can't believe you came all the way here."

Jack presses a kiss to Davey's collarbone and then nuzzles into the skin there, the tension draining from his body. Davey hums and brushes his fingers along the juncture between skull and ear, his brain starting to go fuzzy with sleep. Just as he's starting to nod off, lulled by the steady rhythm of a tail swaying against his hip, Davey hears Jack whisper, "I'd go a helluva lot further 'an Buffalo for ya, Dave." 


	5. Chapter 5

A spasm of pain in his chest makes Davey jolt awake, grimacing as the movement sends a wave of aching through his entire body. "Shit, sorry," a voice hisses softly at his side. "Was tryin' not to wake ya. You okay?"

Blinking as his brain slowly catches up, Davey glances up at Jack where he's propped up on an elbow beside Davey in the bed. The felisian has epic bedhead, even the fur of his ears sticking up in places, and the one side of his face is still red from pressing to Davey's skin all night. Jack bites his lip anxiously, and Davey smiles. "I'm okay," he murmurs blearily.

Jack doesn't look pacified by the response, his gaze panning over Davey's torso uncertainly. "Sorry, I bumped one'a your bruises, huh?" he says.

"Not hard to," Davey says dismissively. "Like you said, I'm basically one giant bruise right now."

"Still, sorry," Jack says. "I didn't mean to. Was just tryna get up. Gotta pee." Davey snorts, and Jack finally offers a glimmer of a smile. "Be right back." He ducks in for a quick kiss, barely more than a brush of lips, and then slides off the edge of the bed.

As Jack pads quietly out of the bedroom door, Davey rubs the sleep from his eyes with his good hand. He feels better after getting some rest, but his body still hurts all over. Beneath the cast, his right arm is heavy and throbbing, little lightning bolts of pain shooting out from where he knows the bone broke the skin. Much as he doesn't want to admit it, another of those pain pills is sounding pretty good right now.

Jack slips back into the room and smiles when he meets Davey's eyes. "Mornin'," the felisian greets warmly. He crosses over and perches on the side of the mattress. "How ya feelin'?"

"A little like staying in bed all day," Davey admits. He takes a breath, and his nose scrunches. "Ugh, but mostly like I need to shower."

Jack laughs. "Yeah, I was thinkin' I could do with one too," he says. "Still smell like hospital." Davey grimaces sympathetically. As much as the antiseptic and bleach smell bothers Davey, he can only imagine how bad it smells to Jack, whose sense of smell is way stronger. He eyes Davey thoughtfully, pulling his lip beneath an eye tooth. "Ya gonna be able to stand long enough to shower? Those bruises are looking dark today."

Grunting, Davey sits up despite the protest of his muscles to prop his back against the wall. Jack isn't wrong. As he looks down at his chest, the entire right side of his body is a patchwork of blacks and blues. "They don't feel any worse," Davey says, shrugging one shoulder. "My face doesn't feel as stiff today either."

The felisian hums and leans in to get a better look at the stitches running down Davey's cheek. "Nah, looks like the swellin' went down a li'l," he says approvingly. Grinning playfully, he dips in to drop a kiss on Davey's nose, making the taller boy snort in amusement. "I'd offer to give ya a hand showerin', but I think that might make me lose the brownie points I got with your folks."

"Probably," Davey agrees, smirking. He draws in a deep breath, taking stock of the tenderness in his muscles, and swallows. "But I wouldn't say no to you helpin' me up. My legs are still asleep."

Something brightens in Jack's eyes, but Davey's relieved that he doesn't comment on his actually asking for help. The felisian stands and holds out his hands. Davey scoots awkwardly to the edge of the bed, taking one of Jack's hands and letting the felisian settle the other on his back for balance. His legs ache when he stands, but they at least hold him without shaking. "Ya good?" Jack asks.

"Yeah, I'm good," Davey says, nodding. He's sore, but it's nothing he can't power through for a little while. He makes for the door, and Jack falls into step with him, one arm still looped bracingly around Davey's back. Once they reach the bathroom, Davey leans against the counter, catching his breath.

"Here, li'l trick," Jack says. He snatches the handtowel from the hook above the sink and then wraps the fabric around Davey's forearm just above the cast. After he gently tucks it into itself to secure it, he nods and grins. "Helps keep the water from gettin' under the cast," Jack explains at Davey's questioning look. "Trust me, ya don't want wet spots under there, makes your skin feel gross."

Davey brushes his fingers over the terrycloth and smiles. "Thanks."

"Always here ta' help," Jack responds, winking. "Holler if ya need anythin'." Squeezing Davey's hand once, Jack turns and shuts the door behind him.

Letting out a slow breath, Davey gives himself a minute to steady his balance. He hates this feeling, hates the weakness and betrayal of his own body. He's never liked needing help with anything, and although he knows it's justified in this situation, he doesn't want to have to rely on others for things.

Davey shakes his head and reaches out, turning on the shower. Sitting in here and moping about it isn't going to make things better. He gives the water a minute to heat up, then awkwardly strips off his briefs with one hand, propped against the countertop for balance when his legs shake. Davey steps beneath the spray, careful to keep his arm out to the side to avoid getting it wet, and audibly groans when the hot water strikes his shoulders. God, that feels good.

Actually washing is complicated, struggling to keep his casted arm raised and out of the water, and his bruised shoulder shakes with the effort. As much as Davey wants to stay under the warm water longer, he grudgingly rushes through his shower as much as he can. It's at least a welcome relief to not smell like antiseptic and sweat anymore when he steps out onto the bathmat.

Davey towels off, taking a moment to examine his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He can't really blame Jack for being worried about him, looking at his appearance. There are patchy bruises all along his side, from his temple down to his calves, along with scattered scrapes and cuts across all of his skin. The stitches on his face, which he hasn't gotten a really good look at before now, descend in a jagged row from his hairline to his jaw. It looks like it's healing okay, but it's definitely going to scar, he concludes glumly.

Towel wrapped around his waist, Davey steps out of the bathroom. He's not entirely surprised to find the bedroom door cracked open; no doubt, Jack is listening from in there, keeping an ear out for trouble. Davey rolls his eyes but keeps the remarks to himself as he limps into the bedroom.

Jack is sprawled on his stomach on the bed, wearing his wrinkled jeans and shirt from yesterday, and he's doing something on his phone. He glances up when Davey steps in and flashes a quick smile. "Betta?"

"Much," Davey agrees with a laugh. "Uh, if you wanna, should be extra towels under the sink."

"Mm, sounds good," Jack says. He sits up and grimaces, plucking at his shirt distastefully. "Not that it'll help a ton; my clothes smell like hospital too. Should'a brought another shirt."

Davey pauses in digging a clean pair of briefs from his dresser, licking his lips uncertainly. When he glances over his shoulder, he can see that Jack caught his hesitation, ears pivoted forward attentively. "There might be one in my duffel there," Davey says, aiming for nonchalance and missing by a mile.

"One'a mine?" Jack asks, eyebrows jumping in surprise.

"The one I borrowed for Halloween," Davey confesses, and heat rushes up the back of his neck. He slips the briefs on and tosses his towel toward the hamper. "I keep forgetting to give it back. Wasn't really paying attention when I was packing for the break and grabbed it on accident."

The felisian gives him a knowing smile as he crouches beside the duffel bag on the floor. "That so, huh?" he asks teasingly. He digs out the worn flannel shirt, sliding the fabric between his fingers. "'Cause I think I remember you tellin' me that night you were planning to steal it."

"It's comfy," Davey says, shrugging, and he turns back to the dresser so Jack can't see the way the blush has crept into his face now. He's barely managed to pull on the sweatpants when a pair of arms snake around his waist, and it's an almost instinctive response to lean back into the warm support of Jack's chest.

Jack nuzzles the side of Davey's neck, and his hum has the faintest edge of a rumble to it. "Youse so cute," he mumbles into Davey's shoulder fondly. "I promise I'll give it back."

Davey chuckles, sweeping his left hand over where Jack's fingers are laced against his navel. "It's _your_ shirt," he points out.

"Not no more," Jack counters and Davey feels his smirk against his skin, the distinct impression of his too-long canines. "'Sides, toldja before, I love thinkin' about you wearing my clothes."

A startled laugh slips out, and Davey flushes all the way to the roots. "Incorrigible," he mutters in amusement. "Go take your shower."

"Behave ya'self while I'm gone, wouldja?" Jack says, sneaking one more kiss before he drops his arms and steps back. "Sit down and rest." Davey grumbles noncommittally and waves the felisian away. Jack scoffs quietly but doesn't argue it, grabbing the fresh shirt and disappearing out of the room.  

 _Coffee,_ Davey thinks, grabbing a teeshirt with a deep V-neck that will be easier to get over his head. _I need coffee. And maybe a stupid pill._

* * *

Jack isn't all that surprised when he comes back from the shower to find Davey's room empty. He hadn't actually expected Davey to sit still and relax like he should. The best Jack can hope is that his family - who Jack can easily hear talking loudly upstairs - have managed to get him to at least settle down.

Jack squeezes the towel along his tail, attempting to pull the rest of the water from his fur. It felt good to scrub away the layer of grit on his skin, to wash away the scent of antiseptic and bleach that never fails to twist up his stomach. Now his hair and fur smell like that crisp, piney scent that he always associates with Davey, just like the flannel shirt he's wearing. Jack smiles fondly as he rolls up the sleeves.

Once he's presentable again, Jack hangs the towels in the bathroom and heads for the stairs. Mayer is sitting at the dining table, paperwork spread out across the surface in front of him, but he glances up and smiles warmly. "Morning," the older felisian greets, ears relaxing from their alert position. "There's coffee in the kitchen, and there should be some scramble and toast left too. I don't think Davey took any."

"Thanks, Mr. Jacobs," Jack says.

"Mayer," the man reminds him. "I've gotta get these done, but the kids are in the living room." Jack nods and slips into the kitchen. He pours himself a mug of coffee and grabs a piece of toast, then follows the short hall around into the living room.

Sarah and Les seem to be embroiled in a fiercely competitive game of Mario Kart, which explains the raised voices Jack heard from the shower. The little felisian is spread out on his stomach on the floor, bottlebrush tail swishing languidly above him, while Sarah is curled up against one arm of the sofa. Davey is sitting at the other end, half-wearing a baggy zip-up, although it's draped over the sling on his broken arm. He's turned sideways so he can prop his weight against the back of the sofa and cradling a cup of coffee in his good hand.

"Hey, Jack!" Les says brightly, and then immediately growls a protest when Sarah uses his distraction to slam his character off the track.

"Eyes on the road, short stack," Sarah replies unsympathetically. A moment later, she glides across the finish line and throws her hands up triumphantly. "And this is why I'm queen."

"'Cause you cheat," Les grumbles. "And my hands still hurt." He holds out one hand, showing off the large Band-Aid across his palm pointedly. "Jack, you wanna play?"

Jack grins and nods to the coffee mug. "Maybe lemme finish my coffee first," he answers.

"Gross," Les says, nose wrinkled and ears folding back. Shaking his head, he turns back to the television. "C'mon, Sarah, next one. I'll beat you this time."

Laughing to himself, Jack walks over to sit down next to Davey, who silently passes over one of the throw pillows for the felisian to use. "They always this competitive?" Jack asks curiously as the other two start up the next race.

"Pretty much," Davey agrees.

"He's worse," Sarah and Les say at the same time without looking away from the screen.

Jack snorts, accidentally inhaling a mouthful of crumbs from his toast in the process. "I believe it," he says after he's taken a swallow of coffee to stop his coughing. Davey shoots him a dry look but doesn't bother responding. "Where's your ma?"

"Work," Sarah says. "She had to trade with another nurse to get yesterday off, but she should be back in a couple hours."

"Bet New Year's Eve is crazy 'round a hospital," Jack muses. "Wouldn't wanna get stuck in that mess."

Davey chuckles softly. "Mostly just a lot of drunks falling over," he intones. He finishes his coffee and sets the cup aside on the end table. A moment later, Davey shifts on the sofa and leans his weight into Jack's side, head dropping into his shoulder. "That's generally how holidays go for her. Drunk people being stupid and the occasional domestic."

Jack manages to hide his grimace behind his coffee mug, forcing his ears still so he doesn't give anything away; Davey's way too observant, even looking half-asleep like he is now. "So, work aside, how do Jacobs celebrate?"

"Board games, mostly," Davey says with an amused smirk. "You think the Mario Kart is competitive, you should see us play Monopoly. It's savage."

Laughing appreciatively, Jack looks down at where Davey's attempting to settle his cheek against Jack's shoulder. Jack moves his arm, draping it around the taller boy's back, and Davey takes advantage of the space to snuggle closer, his bent legs nearly in Jack's lap. "You took one'a your pills, huh?" Jack guesses, grinning.

"Just one," Davey mumbles. Jack can't be sure from this angle, but he thinks Davey's eyes are closed. "My arm was sore. Why?"

"Ya get cuddly when you're tired," Jack answers with a chuckle. Davey makes an indignant noise but doesn't move. "You wanna lay down, Dave? I can move."

Davey's free hand flexes where it's resting on Jack's thigh like he's trying to hold on to the fabric of his jeans. "M'okay."

"Sure ya are," Jack humors him. Downing the rest of his coffee, Jack shrugs to nudge Davey back into a sitting position. "Here, just a sec," Jack says when Davey grumbles petulantly at him. Scooting further down the sofa and tucking the pillow back beneath himself, Jack gestures to the open space. "Now ya can lay down."

Although he huffs, Davey stretches out along the sofa on his back, surprising Jack by resting his head on Jack's thigh instead of on the throw pillow beside him. "Now the TV's sideways," Davey says, squinting at the screen.

"Betcha if you close your eyes, ya won't notice," Jack teases. Davey glares at him, but the effect is ruined by the hint of a smile. Shifting his tail behind him, Jack drapes the still-damp fur over Davey's shoulder and onto his chest. "S'fine, take a nap 'fore your ma gets home so you can shred everyone at Monopoly."

"Shut up," Davey replies without any heat. He strokes the white part of Jack's tail with his good hand, a pleased smile on his face even as he mutters, "Your tail's wet."

"Happens when I shower, smart guy," Jack says. Davey rolls his eyes. As he cards his fingers through the dense fur, Davey's eyes gradually drift shut. He jerks awake once when Sarah whoops in excitement at a win, but in less than a half-hour, Davey's out cold. Jack shakes his head, brushing the fringe off Davey's forehead, but the feel of eyes on him makes him look up.

Both of the Jacobs siblings are watching him in varied shades of curiosity, and Jack feels a blush crawl up the back of his neck. "Who's winnin'?" Jack asks to divert the attention.

"I'm getting closer," Les says enthusiastically. "You wanna play now?"

Jack glances down at Davey and then back up. "Yeah, I could go a few rounds," he concedes. "Think between the two of us, we can beat her?"

Les beams, snatching up a third controller and holding it out. "Definitely."

It's easy to fall into the banter of the siblings, so similar to the way Jack talks to his own brothers when they play games. He has to make a conscious effort not to shift around too much, not wanting to wake Davey, but he still gets into it. Sarah really is surprisingly good at the game, a vicious driver not afraid to play dirty, but Les isn't usually much behind.

Then a last second attack from Jack makes it so Les manages to slide into first place right at the finish line. The younger felisian chitters excitedly, that same machine-gun burst of high noises that was Jack's very first impression of the boy all those months ago, and the sound makes a bemused smile cross Jack's face.

Jack's trying to get better about accepting his felisianism, and his siblings are all admittedly more well-adjusted than him, but Jack's never met someone who is as unashamedly _feline_ as Les. It's jarring and yet strangely comforting, in a way.

By the time Les pivots up on his knees for a high-five, Jack has managed to wipe the surprise from his face. "Good job, kiddo," Jack says.

Les whips his tail in satisfaction, expression thoroughly pleased with himself. "Now we just gotta get you a win," the younger felisian says decisively.

Sarah scoffs. "Good luck with that," she says, a hint of mischief in her smile. "He's even worse than Davey."

"Hey, I've been playin' nice," Jack argues. "I was just playing defense for the kid. You want a real challenge, I'll give ya a challenge."

And Sarah's eyes light with a spark that is disarmingly familiar, that same look Davey gets when he goes into an argument knowing he's right. "Oh, it's _on_."

(Sarah proceeds, through her dirty-fighter tactics, to ensure that Jack doesn't win a single race for the next hour straight.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter of pure, unabashed fluff. Soft bois are soft.

In the end, Davey doesn't actually remember all that much of New Year's. His family - and Jack - bully him into taking his pain pills regularly, although Davey is admittedly so sore he's not putting up more than a token fight. It means that Davey spends large chunks of time napping wherever he winds up sitting at the moment the pills kick in, sleeping for hours at a time. So the rest of the weekend passes in vague snapshots, little moments of the few hours he manages to stay awake over the two days.

He remembers waking up to Jack whining that Sarah is a filthy cheat at Mario Kart-

("Seriously, there's no way she's that good!"

"No, you're just bad."

Jack scoffs imperiously. "Whatever, I totally win all the time when I play with my brothers."

And Sarah smirks. "Then they must _really_ suck.")

Davey makes it through two rounds of Clue when the family starts playing games, but only partway into the game of Monopoly before his eyelids get too heavy for him to concentrate. Although he doesn't sleep, Davey nods in and out as he watches the others play, laughing along with the playful teasing. Les winds up dozing just as much, the excitement of New Year's Eve battling with being up past his usual bedtime.

Davey also remembers the family moving in to watch the Ball drop on the TV. The commentators are ridiculous, the music obviously pre-recorded, and the interviews aimless. Les catches a second-wind, hyper and energetic, and he spends the whole time asking Jack and Davey if they've been to the various places that show up on screen. And mostly, Davey remembers the quick, tender kiss that Jack sneaks at the stroke of midnight while his parents are pretending not to notice. 

The next day is spent lazily watching movies with his siblings, all of them tired from the late night anyway. Davey fades in and out all day through various superhero films that he can't keep track of even though he knows he's seen them all before. Although Davey was originally supposed to go back to NYU on the fourth, Jack has to work on the third, and Esther makes such a fuss about Davey traveling alone that it's decided Davey will leave the next day with him.

"Sorry," Jack says when they're finally alone in his bedroom that night.

"What for?" Davey asks, brow furrowed, as he gathers up the last of his things for the trip back to school.

The felisian shrugs uncertainly, perched on his heels on the bed and toying with a loose thread in the quilt. "Feels like I'm messin' up your time home with your family," he says. "Makin' ya leave early. Youse supposed to have more time with your folks."

"Honestly, I'm kinda ready to leave," Davey admits. He folds his clothes into his duffel bag and zips it, then moves over to sit beside Jack on the bed. Propping his back against the wall, Davey lets out a breath. "Don't get me wrong, I love my family. Just - Mom is getting a little overwhelming. Joys of having a nurse for a mom, I guess."

Jack chuckles. "Yeah, well, there's also that whole thing where my brother's a doc," he points out. "Or will be soon. I wasn't kiddin' when I told ya he can be a bit of a mama bear when he wants."

"Oh, shit, yeah," Davey says, huffing. "Guess I don't have much of an escape, huh?" He lifts his sling off, sliding his arm free and stretching it. "I mean, it's not like it's even my first broken bone. I know how to handle being in a cast."

"Yeah?" Jack asks curiously.

"Broke my ankle in junior high," Davey says with a small smile. "Jumped out of a tree but I was higher up than I thought. I guess at least I don't have to deal with crutches this time around."

"Yeah, the snow really messes with those," the felisian intones with a nod.

"How does your brother do it?" asks Davey. "He has them year-round, doesn't he?"

Jack nods. "Off and on," he agrees. "He's getting better about going without them now. Course, seems like every time he starts getting used to the leg, he hits anotha growth spurt and has to get a new one, and he's back to square one." He fiddles his hands in his lap, scratching distractedly at his fingernails. "Last year, Ma rigged li'l pushpins to the bottom the crutches, to help grip, ya know? But then he went and poked anotha kid for being mean to someone. Said it was an accident, but no one really believed him."

Davey snorts back a laugh. "He learn that one from you?"

"Hey, I toldja, I'm the angel of the family," Jack protests, but he can't fight back his smile. "And the kid don't need my help, he's plenty devious on his own when he wants to be." His ears perk, and he casts a quick look at Davey. "Which reminds me, I don't feel bad for you gettin' the talk from Spot no more. That sister of yours is fuckin' scary."

"Sarah? What'd she do now?" Davey asks dubiously. "Ugh, did she pull the 'break his heart, I'll break your legs' speech thing?" It wouldn't surprise Davey in the least; Sarah's always been intensely protective of Davey, even when they were little. It's a constant point of contention between them, especially considering Davey's just as bad.

Jack chuckles. "Sorta. Except, I dunno, both nicer and scarier," the felisian says. Davey raises an eyebrow questioningly. "I mean, like, it's not like I wasn't expectin' to get the talk from least someone in ya family. That's just the sorta thing that happens, right? Just, she was real _nice_ and straightforward about it. Then, very next sentence, she asks me if I've ever watched this show."

"What show?" Davey asks, half-afraid to hear the answer.

" _How to Get Away with Murder_ ," Jack replies with a smirk. "Never seen it, but the way she explained it, it's somethin' about a lawyer that knows all the sneaky loopholes to cover up killin' folks." Davey lets out an exasperated sigh, dropping his forehead into his palm. "Got her point across real good, though. That woman's definitely gonna make a killer lawyer. Ya know, no pun intended and all."

Despite his embarrassment, Davey's struggling not to laugh at the same time. "Sorry," he says, shaking his head. "I should've known she'd do something like that."

Jack scoffs and shrugs. "Like I wasn't expectin' it," he says sardonically. "Honestly, was just sorta impressed. Funniest way of making that point I've ever heard - not that I've heard it a lot, obviously. Thinkin' I might remember that one when Smalls gets older." He flits his ears playfully.

It takes a minute for Davey's giggles to fade. "No offense, but you should leave the intimidation talks to Spot," he says. "He's weirdly terrifying."

"Didn't work on you," Jack points out, grinning.

"Yeah, well, I've been told I can be incredibly stubborn," Davey shoots back with a laugh.

"Huh, really? I never would'a thought that," the felisian says and the sarcasm is so thick it's almost tangible. "Ain't like arguing with you is like bashin' your head against a brick wall."

Rolling his eyes more out of show than anything, Davey scratches at a divot in the plaster of his cast. As much as he complains about everyone babying him, the persistent aching all through the right side of his body does an excellent job of reminding him that this time is very different from when he broke his ankle as a kid. He exhales heavily. "Going back to school like this is gonna suck."

"Least it's not your writin' hand," Jack says. "That one sucks hard, 'specially during school time."

Davey notices the way Jack flexes his right hand in his lap when he says this, and it sparks Davey's curiosity again. Licking his lips hesitantly, he asks, "Is that the one you broke?"

The felisian hums an agreement, his tail abruptly stilling on the bedspread beside him. "Fell down the stairs," he says, and the tightness in his voice tells Davey it's a partial truth at best. "Busted my wrist. Couldn't hold a pen, so I couldn't write or draw for ages. Thought I was gonna go crazy."

"Implying you're not crazy to begin with," Davey teases to lighten the mood. Jack smirks, and his tail comes around to thump against Davey's side in rebuke. Grinning, Davey relaxes into Jack's side. "Really, though, as much as it's been nice to be home, I kinda miss campus and the city too. I mean, maybe not the noise, but everything's just so - _alive_ , all the time."

"Call it 'the city that don't sleep' for a reason," Jack says with a laugh.

Davey snorts. "Coming from the guy who doesn't sleep." Jack blows a raspberry, waving a hand dismissively. "I don't know," Davey continues thoughtfully. "I feel like I'm a different person there than I am here, somehow. Like I can be someone better, without everyone still seeing me as the kid I used to be." He flushes and shakes his head. "Never mind, that's dumb."

"Nah, makes sense, I getcha," Jack counters. "Think goin' home does that to everyone. Like, even if you grow up, folks just keep on comparing ya to who they remember. Ma does it to me sometimes, too. I know she sees who I am now and all, but there's always gonna be a bit of her thinking 'bout who I was when she met me. And thankin' God I ain't that kid no more," he finishes with a wry chuckle. "Dunno, just part of growing up, I guess."

Smiling, Davey reaches over to tangle his hand with Jack's. "How do you always get me, even when I'm not making sense?" he asks, amused.

"Ya make sense to me," Jack responds simply, shrugging. "Ya know, except when you get talking 'bout structure and narrative and stuff like that. That usually goes over my head."

"That's fair," Davey says, laughing. "Because I don't understand a word you say when you're talking about palettes and brushwork." Davey swipes his thumb along Jack's softly, a steady rhythm that settles and calms him. "I know it must've been expensive, and you probably missed work or something, but it's been nice having you here."

Jack chuckles and presses a kiss to the side of Davey's head. "Ma's got tons of saved up flyer miles," he admits, making Davey laugh again. "But I still would'a come even if it cost all the money in my savings," Jack goes on more seriously. "'Cause thinkin' I might'a lost ya was one the scariest things I ever felt."

Awed by the intensity in Jack's voice, Davey twists to face the felisian better. His ears are drawn back, and he's biting the corner of his thumbnail the way he does when he's nervous, even though it appears he's already chewed most of it off recently. "Jack? You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Jack says, and his amber-gold eyes meet Davey's for a second before darting away again. He takes a shaky breath and his latent accent surges in thick again, the surest sign of anxiety. "S'just - I dunno how to say it so I'm just gonna, 'kay? I think I'm in love with ya. Or, I mean, I _am_. I'm pretty sure. I've never ach'lly been in love with someone 'fore, but I just keep thinkin' that's gotta be what this feelin' is.

"'Cause I thought you were dead and all this stuff was just rushin' through my head, and it made me realize I been plannin' on you being 'round for a long time. I was thinkin', 'now he ain't gonna be there for my birthday or spring break, and what 'bout next Christmas and graduation?' and stuff liked that. And I dunno, think it just hit me all at once that I don't wanna do all those things without ya now, so that's gotta be what love is, right? Being so used to someone being in your life, ya can't think of them _not_ bein'? And now I'm ramblin', so if you could do that thing where you make me shaddup, that'd be good..." Jack finishes, eyes wide and pleading.

It's not until Davey lets out a watery chuckle that he realizes his eyes are damp. Wiping his eyes with the back of his wrist, he says, "But what if I wanted you to keep talking?"

Some of the tension immediately eases from Jack's face, his ears easing up and his lips slanting up on one side. "Yeah? I mean, I ain't gonna promise it'll make sense, but I could try if ya really want."

Laughing, Davey meets Jack's eyes again and that familiar warmth wells in his chest. The words have been rattling around in the back of his head for weeks now, taunting him and skirting along the edges of his thoughts, but the prospect of actually saying it makes his heart race. Davey takes a deep breath to steady himself. "I love you too."

"Fo'sure?" Jack asks tentatively, and the hope and excitement in his gemstone eyes is breathtaking. 

"Fo'sure," Davey echoes in a playful attempt at Jack's accent.

The felisian grins, his tail jittering with energy behind him, and then he cups the side of Davey's face and drags him into a burning kiss. Davey groans into the contact, and Jack growls a response that's hemmed in a ragged purr. When the sound doesn't immediately cut off the way it usually does, Davey feels tears sting his eyes again in realization. This is Jack, wholly and contentedly, not making any attempt to keep himself back. Threading his fingers in the curls below Jack's ear, Davey leans into the kiss and falls in love all over again.

It's only the need for air that finally makes them part, foreheads pressed together and breathing heavily. Jack spots the moisture in Davey's lashes and drags a thumb below his eye. "Hey, you okay?" he asks softly, instantly concerned. His gaze flicks anxiously to the stitches on Davey's other cheek. "Didn't hurt ya, did I?"

"No, I'm fine," Davey assures him. "Better than fine."

Jack's lips part, and then he grins as comprehension washes over his face. "Toldja youse a sap," he says playfully.

Davey laughs. "Pot, kettle," he repeats. "I mean, that was a helluva speech." The pink that floods into Jack's cheeks is one of the most endearing things Davey's ever seen in his life, and the only logical response Davey can think of is to kiss him again.

This time, the kisses are slower, more languid and soft, a lazy exploration. There's no rush to it because they're both familiar with each other and know that what they have isn't going anywhere. Jack noses tenderly at Davey's neck, pressing a line of shallow kisses up the column of his throat - and then Davey yawns. "Sorry," Davey stammers as Jack breaks down in a fit of giggles.

"S'fine, babe, I know them pills make you tired," the felisian says. "I ain't gonna take it as you judgin' my kissin' ability." His smile is teasing, even as he reaches up to brush Davey's fringe back gently. "Should probably get some sleep anyway. We got that early bus tomorrow." Davey, who is finding it harder and harder to resist the pull of his pain medication even with his heart pounding the way it is, murmurs a grudging agreement.

They undress, and once again, Jack waits until Davey is settled in bed before he flips off the lights. The felisian slips into his favorite spot along Davey's side, rubbing his cheek against the curve of his collarbone, and his tail coils on Davey's stomach. As Davey lays in his childhood bedroom, one arm curled across Jack's back, staring up at the arrangement of glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, he feels a soft contentment sweep through him.

This is nothing like what he expected to find when he left for NYU almost five months ago. Nothing in Davey's imagination could've prepared him for the whirlwind that is Hurricane Jack Kelly blowing into his life. Then the felisian's fingers begin kneading slowly on Davey's sternum, the lightest flex of fingertips, and Davey smiles into the darkness.

"Love you, Jacky," Davey whispers quietly just because it feels good to finally say it.

Jack smiles against his skin. "Love ya too, Dave."

Grinning giddily, Davey exhales and feels the tension rushing out of his body with it. "Does that mean I still get the pretty coffee art?"

And Jack dissolves into laughter, burying his face in Davey's shoulder to muffle the sound. It takes him several minutes to finally get his giggles under control, long enough that Davey's focus has started to fade in and out sleepily. Still shaking with quiet laughs, Jack settles himself back into his spot and presses a kiss to Davey's ribcage. "Sure thing, babe, you can have all the coffee art ya can drink."


End file.
